


Why Not

by AroJade (AlleyCatSunflower)



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Awkward Tension, F/M, Fake Marriage, Family Dynamics, Gen, Humor, Not Canon Compliant, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2020-01-31 09:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18588022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyCatSunflower/pseuds/AroJade
Summary: Because humans and half-elves simply don't work together (and neither do just-friends), that's why not… but just try telling that to Mithos. With Martel's stubborn little brother convinced that his sister and Kratos are made for one another, can either of them straighten out their own feelings long enough to convince him otherwise? Takes place during the Kharlan War journey, before Yuan joins the party. Contains some spoilers just by virtue of being set in a past no one wants you to know about in-game.





	Why Not

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Viisauden](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Viisauden).



Kratos and I have been living this lie for awhile, but I've never really thought twice about the implications. Maybe, if I had, my little brother wouldn't try so hard to set us up.

It all started as a spur-of-the moment, defensive response to the suspicion of a single innkeeper. Initially, I thought that in a world like this, having a human along on our journey might lend some credibility. Given the widespread prejudice we encountered, as a pair of allegedly elven traveling siblings, Kratos might be able to act as an ambassador to humanity. But if anything, his involvement only seemed to make matters worse. After all, only rarely did  _our kind_  associate with humans.

 _What's the relationship between you two?_  the innkeeper had asked, leaning forward on the front desk, and I'd had no idea know how to respond. I ought to have anticipated this kind of reaction earlier, but to be fair, it had only been a month or so since he'd joined us. Kratos and I exchanged a brief glance, but the expression in his eyes was as inscrutable as ever. Whatever we decided, we'd have to do it quickly.

Fortunately, Kratos and I were already standing close enough together that his putting his arm around my waist did not come as a shock.  _This is my wife,_  he told the innkeeper firmly, his voice full of the quiet power he usually reserved for enemies. I nodded once, making a valiant effort to meet the stranger's eyes.  _She and her brother are both elves._  He gestured towards Mithos, huddling by the fireplace, thankfully too preoccupied with warming himself to contradict us.

After a very long and skeptical pause, during which Kratos pulled me comfortingly closer, the innkeeper finally acquiesced. But there was still one trial to come. That night, we had to explain to Mithos that for our own safety, Kratos and I would have to say we were husband and wife, so he would have to play along too.

 _But you're not really going to get married, are you?_  Mithos had asked, wide-eyed in consternation. I sighed, but it was Kratos who answered, with a characteristically terse negative. My brother looked over his shoulder at me for confirmation, so I corroborated with a shake of my head and an admittedly weary smile of reassurance. Closing his eyes, evidently satisfied, Mithos finally permitted me to comb his hair in the oddly comfortable silence that followed.

That was his first and last complaint, much to my relief. He's always been possessive, after all. I'm his only family and practically raised the poor child, so he can't stand the idea of losing me, or even sharing me. Thankfully, ever since Kratos accepted his (tentative) request to teach him swordplay, he's relaxed quite a bit around him. He's always admired the man, even if he wouldn't admit it till recently. Only after becoming his student did he allow himself to openly display his respect.

By now, it's been almost a year since Kratos first referred to me as his wife, and this façade has practically become second nature. I find myself automatically thinking of him as my husband now and again, even though it's not particularly easy to get close to him. He's not one to show his emotions, after all. But Mithos is remarkably perceptive for his age, and even when I'm not sure what Kratos thinks, he'll generally translate for me.

Still, that sensitivity isn't always a good thing, as I discovered a few evenings ago.

Nothing special marked that day, as I recall. Just traveling as usual, this time through the summer forests of Sylvarant. There was no tension or unease in the air to hint at the conversation that would unfold that evening.

Mithos drained the last of the water in his carved wooden cup—a prized keepsake from Heimdall I'd taken with me all those years ago—and turned to me. "Hey, Sister," he said, looking up at me from by the campfire with suppressed anticipation in his bright blue eyes. I expected him to ask me to sing something, as was our evening tradition, but instead, the next words out of his mouth were, "Why don't you marry Kratos? For real?"

I froze in shock, staring at him. Where was  _this_ coming from? "I… ah," I began, struggling to find the right words. Kratos is a good man and a handsome one, and we all know it perhaps too well. He and I share an understated sort of affection, laced with a… largely… unaddressed attraction. Yet we were not—are not—in love. How could I possibly explain the nuance of such a complicated connection to a nine-year-old?

A heavy sigh and a movement in my peripheral vision drew me back into the present. "Kratos?" I added helplessly, turning to face him, but he did not reply. Having arisen from the log we shared by way of bench, he sank gracefully to one knee, bowing his head and placing a fist over his heart as if in some sort of pledge. Only a moment before he spoke did I realize what he was going to say, and I shook my head, my eyes widening.

This  _couldn't_ be happening.

"Martel Yggdrasill," murmured Kratos, gazing up at me, "will you marry me?" His eyes searched mine, but I was too flustered to understand the emotion in them, though I realize now that it might have been veiled amusement.

"I—what?" I gasped, feeling myself flush. "N-no! I mean, ah…" I was brought up short as I hastily tried to backtrack. After a year, I trusted Kratos with my life and more, but I still couldn't afford to offend him. The class difference between the two of us was such that, were he so inclined, he'd be able to have me executed for refusing him.

Fortunately, Kratos didn't seem especially surprised, let alone upset. If anything, he'd expected that reaction. " _That's_  why," he told Mithos expressionlessly, straightening up again with a brief exhalation. I glanced self-consciously over at my brother to find him staring between the two of us, openmouthed. Kratos, however, simply took his seat next to me and drank deeply from his flask, as if nothing had happened.

I frowned, unsure as to whether I ought to be more relieved or insulted that my rejection had apparently meant so little to him, However, my brother's indignant voice burst into my thoughts before I could speculate further. "Sis!" exclaimed Mithos, getting to his feet and clenching his fists with the passion of his displeasure. "How could you just turn him down like that!"

Raising my eyebrows at the force of his reaction, I leaned forward earnestly. "We have a few more important things to worry about right now," I said, as gently as possible, but he only crossed his arms, scowling fiercely. "Such as stopping this war, for instance."

"But you're already pretending," insisted Mithos petulantly. "It wouldn't be that hard to do it for real. They don't test you in Sylvarant, right?"

I bit my lip. In Tethe'alla, it was the custom to screen all would-be brides and grooms for elven blood prior to signing the marriage contract. Any human entering into an interracial marriage would have to provide an additional signature, officially lowering their status to that of their spouse. It was true that no such abominable practice existed in Sylvarant, but that step forward didn't work in my favor at the moment.

I took a deep breath, meeting my brother's gaze as levelly as possible. "I don't love him like that, Mithos." There; I said it. Both of us glanced over at Kratos, who regarded each of us in turn as impassively as ever, lending neither of us his aid.

"If you don't love him like that, why would you  _kiss_  him like that?" retorted Mithos, looking me dead in the eye.

A shock like lightning seemed to stop my heart for a beat or two, and I almost flinched. He'd  _seen_  that? I'd thought he had gone upstairs to bed, that night in the Tethe'allan inn a month ago—but it had been Kratos's idea, and even that was—well, it hadn't been what it undoubtedly looked like. Mostly.

 _See that man?_  Kratos asked, scooting his barstool closer to me, and nodded towards the door. I traced his gaze to a young dark-haired nobleman leaning casually against the wall.  _He's been watching you._

 _Does he recognize us?_ I asked, afraid to look too closely. If there's one thing I've learned about the human world over the eight years I've traveled within it, it's that our innocence has no effect on whether we'll be persecuted. Standing out could prove fatal, since the penalty for even the most minor of half-elven crimes is death, and they'd have reason to believe we had a hand in Meltokio's destruction. They'd just laugh if we told them we'd been trying to prevent it, and then execute us all.

 _I don't think so_ , replied Kratos, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully.  _He's probably just infatuated, but that could prove equally dangerous._ He took a last, resolute draught from his tankard, getting to his feet.  _We'll want to make it clear you're not who he's after._

 _How?_ I asked warily, shifting in place, wondering if I should stand as well. Were we leaving? But Kratos stepped forward and gave an infinitesimal shake of his head, glancing backwards, and I understood. He was shielding me from vision, interrupting our potential adversary's line of sight.

As I looked up at Kratos for instruction, our eyes locked. In the dim light, his were darker even than usual, unexpectedly intense, though I couldn't name the emotion in their depths if I tried. I found myself powerless to tear my gaze away from his, and what alarmed me most was that it wasn't an unpleasant sensation, this tingling sort of warmth enveloping me.

Was this…?

No. Definitely not.

I found myself uncrossing my legs, barely conscious of my own actions, yet at the same time sharply aware of Kratos's. He smiled faintly, his eyes flicking briefly to the motion before returning to my face. _Good,_ he whispered, raising his hand to brush my cheek.  _That's a good sign._

 _Wh-what is?_ I asked, but my words were hushed too, trembling under the weight of my quickening heartbeat.  _What are you doing?_ My voice sounded foreign to my own ears. I hadn't touched a drop of alcohol (though Kratos had offered to buy me some), yet here I sat, drunk on something I knew was not quite love. What could it be? I'd never felt this peculiar kind of excitement before.

 _You're going to have to trust me,_ he breathed, but all I could think about was that I'd never kissed anyone like this before, and I had no idea what to expect. Well, I supposed, I was about to find out. Leaning down and in, Kratos half-closed his eyes, and our lips had finally…

"Enough, Mithos," said Kratos, his distant voice recalling me from my memories. I realized abruptly that I had made no answer, though I had opened my mouth at some point. I closed it abruptly, unable to focus on either him or my brother, though I could feel both pairs of eyes scorching my face. "Martel needn't settle for a human like me."

"But, Kratos," protested Mithos.

"It comes down to this," said Kratos, getting to his feet and crossing his arms imperiously. Mithos's expression became suddenly meek as he gazed up at his  _much_  taller instructor. With any luck, he'd be intimidated into silence for the evening. "I asked a question, and she answered it. That's all."

"How can you be so calm?" demanded Mithos, flaring up again almost before Kratos finished speaking, and took a single confrontational step forward. Kratos only raised his visible eyebrow, standing his ground. "Don't you care about her?"

"Of course." There wasn't the slightest hesitation in Kratos's reply, and I smiled over at him briefly. After almost a year of travel, Mithos and I both knew well enough that it was true, but to hear the sentiment spoken aloud so conclusively was undeniably reassuring, given his taciturn nature.

Mithos, however, was not satisfied. "But do you  _love_  her?" insisted Mithos, and I held my breath. What could Kratos say? Either answer would result only in Mithos's vehement objection, either at his indifference or at his falsehood. I found myself curious, too, about what his reaction would be—perhaps more than I should have been.

It's altogether too easy to forget that Kratos, despite his often laconic demeanor, is an evasive and skillful man. "If Martel doesn't want to marry me, my own feelings are irrelevant," he said smoothly, though I noted a bite of impatience in his quiet voice. "Surely we should both respect your sister's wishes?"

"I  _guess_ ," muttered Mithos sullenly, bowing his head in reluctant submission, but sneaked in a brief glare.

This did not escape Kratos's notice. Shaking his head, his instructor let out a long breath. "Are you ready for today's lesson?" he asked, resting a hand on the hilt of his ever-present longsword. Flamberge is too distinctive for a mere mercenary to wield in battle, but even his ordinary weapon is a beautiful one. His time as a captain in the Tethe'allan Knights has evidently given him an eye for good steel.

"Yeah," muttered Mithos, plainly still upset, and bent to take up his own weapon. Though relatively tall for his age, my brother still stands at only four and a half feet—too slight to wield most full-sized weapons. Thankfully, Kratos had graciously spent quite a bit of time and money searching for a properly balanced blade, until finally he commissioned one from a well-known dwarven craftsman.

"Then let's go," said Kratos, and started walking without further ado. Mithos hesitated, but scampered after him with only a single look back, leaving me alone with my thoughts, the firelight… and the dishes.

* * *

"Were you serious?"

Honestly, I was surprised to hear myself speak—even softly, so as not to wake Mithos. Kratos had worked him much harder than usual tonight, no doubt as repayment for the trouble he'd given us. When they'd returned from the grove, perhaps a quarter of an hour ago, my brother had barely stumbled back before he flopped over next to the dying fire and closed his eyes with an exhausted mumble that might have been  _good night_.

Kratos laughed, glancing at me out the corner of his eye, and took another sip from his flask. (I never know what he keeps in there.) "What do you think?" he returned, and I gave a tentative smile. Of course he hadn't been serious. I still don't know why I asked.

"It was just… a very quick reaction," I explained haltingly, almost defensively, staring at the last embers of the fire. Almost  _too_  quick. That was the thing I didn't understand. Kratos is an enigmatic man, but all motivations aside, he certainly has a good deal of dignity. Staging a proposal, all the while knowing that I would never accept, seemed unlike him.

"Well, he was bound to ask someday," said Kratos, examining his flask for a moment before giving a slight shrug and draining it altogether. "Call it an inevitability. Especially after the incident a few weeks ago." His focus on me sharpened, but he must have heard my breath catch, because he had the grace to return his burning eyes to the fire before long. "You were thinking about that."

"Y-yes," I said reluctantly. We hadn't talked about it, but Mithos had noticed whatever it was that was between us. "Because… that was… my first kiss."

Kratos nodded once, shortly, as if distracted. "I gathered." He wavered in place as if meaning to get up and leave me. Silently, I willed him to stay. Sensing my need for acknowledgment, some sort of reassurance, he gave a drawn-out sigh as though relaxing, but his mannerisms seemed more agitated than ever.

"I'm sorry," muttered Kratos finally, running a hand somewhat awkwardly through his shaggy hair.

Well, an apology certainly wasn't what I expected, but I supposed it was better than dodging the subject entirely. "For what?"

"That it had to be with someone you don't love," said Kratos, raising his eyebrows in apparent surprise that I hadn't taken offense. It was true that I would have preferred we address our kiss before his proposal, however joking, but I still found myself smiling. Was that really all he was worried about? It had hardly been an unpleasant experience, after all. I didn't understand it, but that didn't mean I didn't enjoy it, in my own loveless way.

"Don't worry about it," I said, and—after a pause as he evaluated the earnestness of my expression—he bowed his head in relief, letting out a soft breath. A kiss wasn't so bad. There were plenty of other firsts I'd regret much more. (That line of thinking was a dangerous one, however, and I strove to cut it off.) "But… was that really the only way?" More than a small part of me was curious about Kratos's motivation.

Kratos did not answer at first, and did not even seem to breathe, staring fixedly at the fire. "No."

I nodded tentatively, but found myself unable to ask the last question that might clarify this situation. I think I was afraid of knowing. Whatever was between us was by its very nature undefined, so I doubted very much whether searching for a definition anyway would yield anything but frustration.

Clearing my throat, I steered the conversation back to marginally safer waters. "So… you decided the best way to convince Mithos a marriage wouldn't work was to propose on the spot?" It was an unconventional method at best, a needlessly elaborate scheme, and he had plainly bet on my refusal. "What would you have done if I'd said yes?"

Kratos turned his head slowly to look me up and down, and I found myself suddenly nervous, tugging at various parts of my dress nervously. I fully expected him to ignore me and turn back to the fire, but eventually, he sighed and shifted in place. "Married you, I would imagine," he said, looking up at the stars.

" _What_?" I stared at Kratos, stunned.

He did not look at me. "I assume, if you'd accepted my offer, you would have meant it. Given that you rejected me before you remembered that I outrank you, a 'yes' would have come from your heart, too. Would you rather I have broken it?" Kratos finally turned his head to meet my eyes. "Mithos would never forgive me."

I scowled. I'm hardly what you'd call short-tempered; I've experienced enough hardships raising my brother that I can handle just about anything. Except, apparently,  _this_. "I would rather have my heart broken than marry a man who does not love me," I hissed, keeping half an eye on my sleeping brother. "How could a highborn gentleman like yourself even suggest leading a woman on like that?"

A frown flitted across Kratos's face, so quickly it might have been a trick of the firelight. "No one said I would be leading you on," he said slowly, leaning toward the fire, and I was confused in the split second before I recalled his admission of mere moments before that kissing me had not been the only way. Perhaps he felt the same way I did. "Don't sell yourself short. In love or not, no man could ever be unhappy with you as a wife. You should remember that."

I blinked in surprise, all my lingering annoyance vanishing like campfire smoke. As a half-elf, hearing something like that from a human was touching, to say the least. Especially a human like  _him_. I wasn't sure how to respond to this kindness and praise from such a severe man. Especially as his face might have been a little red—or maybe that was just the ruddy light of the last few embers. (I like to think he's just inept at compliments, because he has to have  _some_ flaws.)

For lack of anything else to do, I looked down at my brother. "Why did you ask in the first place, again?"

Kratos seemed slightly relieved at the change in subject, as his words came more promptly than I anticipated. "I thought Mithos would only accept your rejection if he saw it in person. I may have been… hasty." He looked at me again, more guardedly. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but something in his eyes told me it was at least partially because he too had been curious about how I would react.

"He still put up a good fight."

"That he did," agreed Kratos with something of a smile, poking the fire lazily and watching a few sparks soar up to mingle with the stars. "He argued with me all the way to the clearing, telling me I should try again. He even gave me some advice. The only reason he stopped was because he didn't have the breath after we started sparring." He paused, sighing. "It would seem Mithos is more invested in the idea than I imagined."

"He really does look up to you," I said apologetically.  _And who can blame him?_  I added to myself, but decided it was best to avoid anything that might be considered flirtation and continued, somewhat lamely, "You know he does."

"He must, if he's willing to entrust his only family to me," said Kratos, his tone edged with a chuckle. "Now, you should get some rest. I'll take the first watch."

"Thank you," I said somewhat uncertainly, getting to my feet and stretching. "For everything. Not just the watch."

Kratos only laughed gently. "Don't thank me," he said, as I made my way to where I had set up my cot on the soft summer grass, a few feet away. "Just promise me something. Promise me, if you find a man who can make you happy, you won't place your duty above that happiness."

I nodded, then remembered that Kratos was facing away from me and murmured, "Yes." I hesitated; would it be too bold to ask something in return? Certainly no bolder than he had been this evening, I told myself, and pressed on. "But I want you to make me a promise, too." A noncommittal grunt in response told me he was listening, and I smiled. That was as much of a response as I could hope for. "Next time Mithos asks about this, help me out instead of just standing by like that, will you?"

"Believe me, I'm doing all I can," said Kratos, on the verge of a smile, as I sat down. "Maybe if you'd stop blushing every time you look at me, he'll figure it out faster."

"And maybe if  _you'd_ stop staring at me when you think I'm not looking," I retorted with immediacy that surprised even me, and he glanced over his shoulder in apparent shock before turning to face the fire and shaking his head. When he offered no further response, I laughed, and playfully tossed a pebble at his back. "Good night, Kratos."

He gave a soft growl of annoyance as the little rock found its mark, but his voice was no less warm for it, washing over me like the flickering firelight as I lay down closed my eyes in contented exhaustion. "Good night, Martel."


End file.
